


The Napron

by Stormkpr



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-09 17:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16454531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormkpr/pseuds/Stormkpr
Summary: A series of fics centered around the FitzSimmons wedding in Season 5.Chapter One - Deke’s been charged with tracking down everything needed for the big wedding. That should be easy, maybe.Chapter Two - Armed with Deke’s bizarre wedding gift, Jemma now needs to decide if and how to use it to surprise Fitz.





	1. The Napron

“Tell me something good. Sitting here in this bed all day is killing me.”

Daisy sat beside Yo-Yo’s bed. Yo-Yo’s speech was slow and her skin sallow, but she appeared more lucid than any time Daisy had seen her since the brutal attack by Ruby.

“Um, well,” Daisy began, “FitzSimmons are going ahead with the wedding.” She paused. “And – and that’s exactly it in terms of anything good happening right now.”

Yo-Yo shook her head. “I spend every waking moment in here with Simmons and she doesn’t mention it once. She probably doesn’t want to make me feel bad for the kind of things I will be missing.”

“Yo-Yo, don’t. You—“

Yo-Yo cut the younger woman off. “Save it. I need to think about something good. So how are they going to have a wedding here? We’re in an ugly underground bunker where the only colors are brown and concrete.”

“Yeah. Deke is going out and buying stuff for it,” Daisy said, her tone leaving no doubt about her confidence level in Deke. “He’s going to be hitting up resale stores.”

“ _Dios Santo!_ Deke? How does he know what to get?”

“Coulson described it to him best he could. I overheard parts of it.” Daisy smiled. “Never before have two heterosexual men had such a detailed discussion of what kind of dress to buy.”

Yo-Yo chuckled. “Thank you. I needed that.” She paused. “You still don’t look like you feel very good about this though.”

“There’s one other thing that I want Simmons to have, but I don’t want Deke to be the one to buy it. She needs something nice to wear on her wedding night! The people who stocked this bunker left us lots of nice flannel pajamas and wool socks to wear, but she’s going to be a fricking bride. She deserves something pretty to wear to bed.”

“Why are you so worried about this? It’s not like Fitz hasn’t seen her naked before,” Yo-Yo deadpanned. “And besides, this is Simmons – the woman who doesn’t like high heels any more than I do. She doesn’t need a pretty nightgown either.”

“She does on her wedding night,” Daisy retorted. “Yeah, I know he’s seen her naked before, as you so eloquently put it, but she can be traditional in some ways. I want her to have this. I think she’d like it.”

“Then you need to go talk to Deke before he leaves. Since we don’t have Amazon here.”

Daisy looked down at her hands. “I’ve had a lot of stupid conversations with stupid people in my lifetime. I can’t effing imagine how this one’s going to go.”

“You can do it for Jemma,” Yo-Yo insisted. She wished she could wave her arms around for emphasis. “You could at least try. What’s the worst thing that will happen? Deke will make a dumb joke? He says stupid things every day, so nothing new there.”

 

***

Not long afterwards, Deke entered FitzSimmons’s room with a few shopping bags. He had been instructed, both by Coulson and Daisy, to hand Simmons some of the items at a point when Fitz wasn’t around.

“Oh Deke,” Simmons breathed as she held up the wedding gown. “It’s beautiful.” She assessed the garment under the room’s lights. No apparent rips or stains. Definitely too large for her, but Deke had been correctly told ‘better too big than too small.’ Nothing that several pins couldn’t take care of. “It’s – why, it’s even something that I might have picked out myself.”

“Whoa, that is the best compliment!” Deke exclaimed. “Mission accomplished, Deke.”

She almost wanted to hug him. He truly had found a marvelous dress for her. As Simmons reached for a hanger upon which to hang it, Deke rummaged around in the shopping bags. “There’s more,” Deke said, pulling out a pair of shoes.

“Oh, thank you,” Simmons smiled, eyeing the shoes. “Not too high, thank goodness,” she remarked about the heel height. She preferred a low heel for comfort, obviously, and also so as to not match or exceed Fitz’s height. Simmons assessed the other aspects of the shoes. They definitely didn’t gleam with newness, but they weren’t scuffed or dirty either. They looked like they might be a tad too small, but she knew she wouldn’t need to keep them on for very long. “These will do nicely. Thank you again, Deke.”

“And…there’s one more thing!” Deke said, reaching for the last item.

“Oh really?” Jemma asked. “Surely you didn’t buy a – a veil or a headpiece? I mean, that would’ve been lovely but we don’t want to be excessive. We will have to keep my hairstyle fairly simple, as the people who provisioned the Lighthouse didn’t seem to have ladies’ hair care products in mind,” she added, with a laugh

“Oh, it’s not for your hair,” Deke said, handing Simmons a garment.

Jemma looked at it. It was red. Bright red. She unfolded it and held it up.

“For your wedding night!” Deke proclaimed.

“It’s – um, Deke, it’s an apron,” Simmons stated. She was holding a red apron. The garment was simple, a halter-style to go over one’s head, and ties so the apron could be tied in the back.

“I don’t know what a _napron_ is,” Deke said, mispronouncing the unfamiliar word. “But Daisy told me that I had to get you something pretty to wear on your wedding night. There weren’t that many choices, and some of the stuff available smelled bad or had stains or whatever. But this was nice and clean. And surprisingly soft!”

Jemma noticed that her mouth had been hanging open, so she closed it. She then acknowledged, “It is that. One of the softer aprons I’ve ever touched.” She forced a smile, and then took on a conspiratorial tone. “Thank you, Deke. And of course, as I’m sure Daisy told you, don’t tell Fitz about this!”

“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t. But hopefully the - the _napron_ will help you get on some post-wedding yeehaw! Well, I gotta go now and take the rest of the supplies where they need to go. Enjoy!”

“Thank you, Deke,” Simmons smiled, keeping the corners of her mouth up until he left the room. 

She stood in place, holding the apron. It was unusually soft for an apron. Her first instinct was to bury it in the back of the bottom drawer. But then she tilted her head. `We haven’t had much to laugh about lately,’ she thought to herself. `And he’s already seen me in a negligee. Perhaps if we’re feeling silly after the ceremony….’

***


	2. The Monkey

***

“It just feels wrong to not have a reception! Weddings are supposed to be followed by receptions,” Yo-Yo said the words firmly, her eyes blazing. It was all she could do, as waving her arms for emphasis was not an option.

“Yeah, but I can’t blame ‘em for not having one,” Mack said steadily. “We can’t go anywhere nice, and we got nothing to decorate this place with. The food here ain’t anything to get excited over, and it’s not like we can get something brought in.”

“They managed to find a way to have a beautiful wedding.” Her tone took on a softness as she said, “Thanks again for filming it.”

“We all needed to have something positive to think about,” Mack replied. His eyes then darted around the room. “Do you need something? A glass of water? Your pillows fluffed?”

“The answer is the same as when you asked 10 minutes ago,” Yo-Yo replied flatly. She sighed. “I know why they said they didn’t want a reception. Guilt. They feel guilty that I’m sitting here with no arms, and then Coulson…” Her eyes took on a distant look. “Coulson,” she repeated, with a note of finality.

Mack was silent for several moments. He then added, “And you know they feel guilty for every second they’re not working. We all do. They could justify in their heads having a wedding, especially since Coulson pushed it. Harder to justify having a party.”

“Next time Simmons checks on me – which is far too often – I’m going to make her swear that once all this is over, they will have a reception!”

Mack nodded. “I know they’ll agree to that. Once our lives get back to normal, we’ll make them have a crazy-good reception.”

“Maybe we can even get Fitz to wear a kilt.”

***

When Coulson heard FitzSimmons’s declaration that there would be no reception, he understood their reasoning. The list of reasons was endless. There was too much going on; The Lighthouse was ugly; the fear dimension was closed so they couldn’t just head for a nice place; the food was monotonous; other than the hideous Zima there was little alcohol (which should be saved for medicinal purposes, one never knows); the wedding itself was far more important than the reception; it was too much of a risk to send Deke out again for the endless list of items they would need; and they could always have a reception later. It was hard to argue with any of it.

“At the very least, can you do something…fun?” Coulson asked.

“Fun?” Fitz echoed, as if he had never heard the word before. At some point, in a life before the Framework, it was a concept he had known.

“Something other than working. Something fun,” Coulson insisted.

Simmons’s facial expression belied her confusion. “Well, our options in The Lighthouse are somewhat limited.”

Coulson shrugged. “Think of something. Pop some popcorn and ask Daisy if there’s any way to stream a movie here. Visit the record collection here, find one you like, and dance to it – in your room, if you don’t want an audience. Find some nail polish and paint her toes,” he said, looking at Fitz. “Anything!” 

Simmons tried to think of the last thing she had done which could have possibly been considered fun. Eating at the diner before Enoch transported them? No, the stress and heartache of the Framework had chewed on their hearts far more than she and Fitz had been able to enjoy any of the greasy food. The obvious answer was their tryst inside Voss’s lab and the inauguration of their bed in The Lighthouse. Of course “fun” wasn’t the right adjective for that either. No, those moments were a coming together of two souls fueled by love and desire; the term “fun” didn’t do it justice. Jemma silently expressed gratitude for those moments, and her body gently hummed a bit reliving them. 

Fitz saw the twinkle in Jemma’s eyes. “We will put our minds to it and think of something, Sir. Er - maybe not the dancing though.”

“Good. Mack is with Yo-Yo, and everything else can wait a few hours while you two geniuses find something enjoyable to do --and do it.” Coulson said the words with a straight face, and Fitz fleetingly wondered if it was obvious to him what their leisure activity of choice would be. Coulson had to have an inkling that they weren’t going to take any of his suggestions and instead were going to undertake the traditional post-wedding activity.

Well, in any case, it clearly was obvious to Simmons as she was already grasping his hand and leading him to their quarters.

***

“I’m sorry, Fitz. There were no monkeys at our wedding.” Jemma removed her heels as she matter-of-factly stated the words. With her foot, she pushed the shoes under the bed.

Fitz paused a moment, wondering if he had heard Jemma – that is, he corrected himself – heard _his wife_ \- correctly. He took off his jacket and hung it in the closet, deciding he had, in fact, heard her correctly. “No monkeys?” he asked, turning around to face her.

“They should have been incorporated into the celebration somehow,” Jemma insisted, reaching behind herself to start the work of unfastening the numerous pins that held her dress together.

“Let me help,” Fitz said quietly. He carefully ran his fingertips along her back, searching for where the pins resided. “Now that sounds like the stress of the day talking. When we have a reception someday, we can find a funny way to incorporate monkeys.” He took a breath and added, “I’m just glad that Deke didn’t mess up. He found this dress and found two nice rings. We’re lucky we got that.”

“That we are. And I suppose you’re right. We can incorporate a monkey theme into our reception, whenever we have it.”

Fitz shook his head as he deftly and gently removed a pin. “Now that is conclusive proof that you love me. I don’t think anyone else would agree to a monkey-themed wedding reception.”

“Well, only if we can combine it with some of our other interests,” Jemma said, holding a finger up. “I want the TARDIS at our reception, for sure. And astronomy. Somehow the decorations must incorporate astronomy.”

“Monkeys in space with Doctor Who. Maybe it is better that we have to wait a bit,” Fitz chuckled. He continued his cautious work of locating and removing pins from Jemma’s dress. “You weren’t joking about the number of pins in this!”

“The dress is at least two sizes too big for me,” Jemma smiled. 

At long last, the dress was divested of its pins, and Jemma eased it over her head. Fitz gathered it into his arms and turned to hang it inside the closet next to his suit jacket. 

The undergarment choices at The Lighthouse had been utilitarian at best, and Jemma now stood wearing a plain white bra and plain white slip, underneath which she wore plain white cotton briefs. She wasted about one second feeling self-conscious of the drab garments before she reminded herself that Fitz wouldn’t care what she wore and would see her as beautiful even if she wore the proverbial potato sack.

“So,” Jemma began, approaching Fitz and starting to unbutton his shirt. “Shall we take one of Coulson’s suggestions? You could locate nail varnish and paint my toenails.”

“That man drank too much bloody Zima,” Fitz said, laughing as Jemma removed his shirt. The thought of Coulson talking about Fitz giving Simmons a pedicure was, to Fitz, somehow both hilarious and disconcerting. He quickly added, “I mean, if you wanted me to, I could. But I figured that we would instead….” His eyes darted in the direction of the bed.

“I suppose the nail varnish will have to wait then,” Jemma said, shaking her head. She continued to divest Fitz of the rest of his clothing, unzipping his trousers and then helping him step out of them. Once her task was complete, she said, “Oh! I do have a surprise for you.”

“You do?” Fitz asked, suddenly alarmed. He had no surprise to give her. Nothing. He bit his lip to keep from once again cursing their lives, cursing the fact that he couldn’t even go out and buy his wife a little gift to give on their wedding day. A wedding day that would pass without a reception, without any plans for a honeymoon, and certainly without luxuries such as the presence of Jemma’s parents or Fitz’s mother.

He pushed those thoughts away. His mother used to tell him not to ‘cry over spilt milk’. He was married to his soulmate and he almost felt like they could take on the world together. What more could he want?

“Yes,” Jemma said. “You’re going to need to close your eyes. And of course get on the bed first. Or you could stay standing, but since the bed is our ultimate destination…”

“Bed it is!” Fitz said. He turned back the covers and got under them, in a sitting position. For a split second, he had felt self-conscious over the fact that he wasn’t hard yet and thus he enjoyed the security of the covers. But his rational side reminded him that such thoughts were far off the mark. Simmons knew that arousal took more than an instant to achieve, and he knew he had pleased her well during their two recent encounters. Besides, he now felt confident that she would love him even if, for some reason, he didn’t get hard. Not that he had any reason to worry about that.

“Okay,” he said. “My eyes are closed.”

“I can see that,” Jemma smiled. 

Fitz heard fabric rustling, and behind his closed eyelids, he could tell that she did what she had done last time: placed something over the lamp to dim the room’s lighting a bit. His thoughts raced. What could her surprise be? The Lighthouse contained almost nothing that wasn’t practical. (Fitz highly doubted that there would be any nail varnish, for that matter). As he waited in suspense for the surprise, he berated himself for not having had the creativity to come up with something unusual.

“Okay!” Jemma said. “You may open your eyes.”

Jemma stood next to the bed feeling mildly absurd. She had hoped to prime Fitz’s mind towards lighter topics by mentioning monkeys, so as to get him in the right mindset for this. She now stood naked except for the red apron that Deke had purchased. Jemma took a glance downwards. The apron had a halter top design, and the sides of her small breasts poked out awkwardly from the halter. `Good heavens, this is ridiculous’, she told herself.

“Oh!” Fitz exclaimed. “A-an apron.” The look on his face was at the intersection of bewildered and amused. Jemma decided she would try to work the bemused aspect.

“Yes,” she said, raising her eyebrows, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards. She turned and slowly spun around, giving Fitz a full view. She fleetingly wished she had kept her heels on for this.

Fitz caught her playful tone and – thankfully, in Jemma’s mind – decided to go with it. “It’s lovely,” he said, in a tone of mock awe. “Does this mean we’re heading to the mess hall and trying to replicate The Sandwich?”

“Yes. Dressed exactly as we are.”

“Brilliant! It’s our wedding day, after all. So we can do whatever we want, including entering the mess hall with me starkers, and you wearing nothing but an apron,” Fitz said, laughing.

“The opinions of the others be damned!” Jemma added. 

“It might be cold though,” Fitz acknowledged. “Perhaps we can stay here for a bit.” He reached a hand out to slowly lift the bottom of the apron. “Maybe for an appetizer I could start with what’s under here.”

“I don’t know whether to be aroused by that or to just keep laughing,” Jemma admitted, still smiling.

“Well, either one is fine, but why don’t you get under here?” Fitz suggested, patting the side of the bed. 

“I suppose I’m leaving this on for now,” Jemma said flatly, tugging the sides of the apron.

“I think you kind of have to,” Fitz responded, as Simmons nestled under the covers. “It would be a shame to discard this lovely item so quickly. Where did you even get this?” He stopped and groaned, “Oh. Did Deke bring this back from this shopping trip?” 

“Let’s not think of that right now,” Jemma wisely replied, as she gestured for Fitz to lie on his back. She was eager to begin kissing him. “Right now I’m thinking of how I, too, plan to enjoy an appetizer.” One of her hands reached towards a certain part of his anatomy. “Oh, and I am also thinking of how good you would look in something. Something specific.” She planted a quick kiss on his lips.

“Something specific?” Fitz echoed, and then the realization hit him. 

They spoke the words simultaneously. “The monkey boxer shorts!”

***

_Author’s note: Thank you to every fanfic writer who has wisely determined that Fitz must have (and love) monkey boxer shorts. I hope you don’t mind my using that idea here!_

 

***

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!
> 
> A shoutout to JaneDoh7 and LibbyWeasley for being amazing betas and also to Sunalso for the help with the summary. I couldn’t have done it without you. It takes a village to write a piece of fluff!


End file.
